


Terms of Endearment

by TheLordMockingbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordMockingbird/pseuds/TheLordMockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night in Petyr's solar at the Gates of the Moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allthespiceyoullwant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthespiceyoullwant/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Lord Protector's Daughter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317603) by [allthespiceyoullwant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthespiceyoullwant/pseuds/allthespiceyoullwant). 



So many long nights had passed since Petyr Baelish had left King's Landing. A few less since he had become a widower and even fewer since he had claimed his true prize, more precious than any title.

"Sweetling."

He licked the junction between throat and jaw, the pulse point where just below ivory flesh the girl's heart pumped her life's blood at an almost astonishingly furious pace. The feel of its throbbing rhythm against his tongue was like war drums and oh how he was stirred to strike. She held such absolute power over him, yet she was only just realizing the very first tendrils of the wildfire that burned within him. For her.

"My loyal, loving daughter."

Her fingertips dug sharply into the flesh of his shoulders in anticipation. There would be marks there come morning. Momento Mori. Only a small death. His breath hitched as if it was the first time. His silver ringed hands travelled slowly, painfully slowly down her silhouette. First to reach his touch was the curve of a still developing yet full enough to fill his palm breast. He tweaked a silk covered nipple lightly until it stood hard against his fingers. Her lissome frame arched into him but with calculated sharpness, Petyr backed away. Smirking.

"Tsk tsk, Alayne, such a wanton little creature. Deferred gratification is the most rewarding. Make me work harder for my prize, my darling."

His errant hands moved lower as she tried to steel her resolve with a sharp intake of breath. She was such a quick learner. He never had to tell her twice. Petyr moistened his lips with an enticing lick before leaning forward to cage her pouting pink mouth in a kiss. Hips like daggers bucked into Petyr's grasp and he nipped at her lower lip as a warning. By time his fingers made their slow decent to her smallclothes, she was sopping.

"So wet. So eager."

It was Petyr's turn to groan unbidden and she grew emboldened by his slip of control, pushing him back and back until his knees met the velvet cushioned windowseat of the solar so graciously provided to Petyr by he and Alayne's fully ignorant and ever hospitable host, Lord Nestor Royce. A few times already, in the dead of night they had soiled its surfaces with lust. Since the first time, when Petyr happened upon her lounging in his bed naked, they both seemed to suffer from incurable insomnia. As the Gates of the Moon slept, they fucked and made love, depending on the mood and always explained their exhaustion the next day on planning for an eventual upcoming feast to officially announce her engagement to Ser Harrold Hardyng. Only, Petyr just couldn't seem to find enough wine or they couldn't quite agree on right main dish or other supplies. Other excuses included weather, winter was coming after all or trouble with the mountain clans but the true reason for the delay - jealousy. Petyr's, of course. He just didn't want to share her any more than she really wanted to be shared. Her wedding to Ser Harrold the Arse would happen but at their leisure and not until everything was in place just so. After Petyr consumed all her firsts, they would proceed. If the gallant toad made it so far as the marriage bed, there would be naught left that Petyr hadn't tasted before him. Being the good 'father' such that he was, Petyr made sure to know the course of her moon's blood to prevent siring a bastard on her and once a fortnight he comforted her as she drank moon tea but once she was near enough to being wedded by Harrold, nothing would prevent Petyr from sowing his own seeds first. The Vale only needed to assume the heir was her husband's. But for now, pleasure was their only concern in these late nights.

He pulled her to straddle his lap, deft fingers gripping her bottom and seeking that sweet wetness he felt only moments before. He ripped her smallclothes away, too impatient now to bother with dragging them down her impossibly long legs. That would leave marks for her to discover, come the dawn as well. She would have to walk to her chambers bare beneath her gown, his seed undoubtedly dripping down her legs, staining her as his. The thought thrilled Petyr as he slid two fingers inside her. 

"Petyr, please..." She begged. His fingers not enough to dull the wet ache he only barely attended with a lazy grin on his face. 

"Please, what my sweet girl?" He leaned back slightly to yield to her unspeakable demand. Soon she'd be bold enough to easily utter indecencies to get what she wanted. She made quick work of his trouser laces, nearly an expert now, unleashing his engorged cock with nimble, pale fingers. She gripped him firmly as she guided him inside her, sliding around his length with her welcoming warmth using the same agonizing delay he had served her.

"Sansa..."

Petyr finally sighed out her true name as he filled her to the hilt, instead of the multitude of endearing terms he had a tendency to use in its stead. When he was inside her, she was only Sansa. She cupped his face and met her lips with his as his hands guided her still novel motions at her hips. Top was only something he had conceded to her once before but then it ended with him flipping her to her back to regain control and the delicious fervor he often experienced when delaying his own release for educational purposes. Not tonight. He would let her ride him until her porcelain throat sang with hymns of satisfaction.

Sansa's efforts made sweat bead on her forehead and she bit her lip in a display of fierce determination. Petyr lifted a hand to her face, rubbing that chewed lip with his thumb until it parted to grant his digit entry. He grazed the edges of her teeth, pulling her mouth open until her sweet tongue flicked out to lap at the intruder, then suckle upon it until he had to throw his head back from the dual sensation of her cunt and mouth on his separate limbs. Her saliva dripped down his doublet sleeve and he groaned loudly. The fingers of the hand on her hips digging and digging until he was certain an exactly perfect imprint of his hand would later linger in darkening purple. 

"Harder, Sansa," Petyr hissed through pleasure clenched teeth, "You won't hurt me, I promise." He dragged his wet thumb across her cheek, her jaw and over the pulse point which burned radiant with her need. He cupped a pert breast like an anchor. When he began teasing the nipple, her hands flew to grip the carved wooden window screen behind them, grasping two of its crescent moons like a ladder to safety. In this semi-reclined position, Sansa's breasts were full in his face but other parts of her demanded his attention. Her movements had become erratic. They were both so close, he could feel the inside of her clench as he bucked his hips upward to aid their chase to bliss. Moving his hand between their joined flesh, the same thumb she tasted rubbed firm circles at the apex of her sex, that delicate pearl that made her moan and sing his name. 

"Oh gods...Pe..Petyr!" So wanton, so unladylike, so beautiful and he filled her to her core with his seed. The moment like a blinding flash of lightning. He had known other women but none had ever sent him over the edge like her. None had even come close. He wrapped his arms around her possessively as they came down, placing a sweet kiss upon her forehead.

"Such a good girl, my Sansa. You please me so." He was besotted and only she could ever ascertain the truth of it.


End file.
